Not All Who Wander Are Lost
by LittleEnglishLass
Summary: In which Primus has a bad habit of wandering around Cybertron and not watching where he's going...
1. Ironhide

**I had a random idea and ran with it. I realised there's a huge lack of fics about Primus, even though he/she/it could be an intensely interesting character to write about...so I've decided to remedy this slightly. :)**

**I've taken a different route with Primus' characterisation. Most would probably write him as a very poetic, wise being, but I thought it would be nice to write him as the exact opposite. A simple being with simple tastes, a huge amount of power wrapped up in an unassuming form. Much like a Hobbit. He's short too. **

**So yeah...my version of Primus is basically a Hobbit. ;) A metal and alien one.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Not All Who Wander Are Lost<strong>

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><p><strong>1. Ironhide<strong>

Contrary to popular opinion, Primus was actually rather small.

The others sometimes teased him about it. They found him an odd little thing, a strange metal being scorched by stardust, standing upon the pillars of creation among beautiful, endless beings stretching across light years.

He imagined they didn't quite know what to make of him.

Still, being small had its advantages. They tended to ignore him, which was always a good thing. He had no care for the constant bickering and warring for supremacy, nor the incessant posturing they all partook in as they paraded about their respective universes, demanding worship none of them even vaguely deserved. He thought they looked awfully silly. They often overlooked him, seeing his size as a representation of his power. This too was a good thing. They thought him weak, a tiny speck of existence unworthy of including in their schemes and wars.

Being small had other advantages too.

The others could almost never visit the places they created, not without having to siphon off some of their oh-so precious energies and make a mortal body strong enough to hold the sheer size of their being. As he walked an aimless path around the bustling streets of Iacon, Primus found their predicament incredibly amusing.

He decided it had been far too long since his last visit to his planet. The energies of the city were wonderful to be around, constantly singing with life and movement. He adored the senses a physical body could gift him. The feeling of the ground beneath his pedes, or the way the heat of the sun beat down upon his plating…it was almost as majestic as the feeling of creation itself.

His children were calling this a Golden Age. He could see why.

Primus sighed softly into the warm air, raising an arm to follow the charming dance of the breeze as it rushed by. His smile faded slightly when he caught something hidden beneath the swirling wisps of life and laughter. He couldn't give it a name, but he did not like it one bit. It felt…wrong.

Lost in thought, as he often was, he forgot to remember to steer his vessel and subsequently walked straight into something.

"Hey, watch it!"

Ah, not some_thing_, more rather some_one_.

Primus cocked his head at the much larger red mech, caught up in the lovely swirl of his spark for a moment. Well, it was actually much longer than a moment, but in his defence it was a really nice spark to look at. It flickered around like a pulsar in orbit. He lost himself in the colours, forgetting entirely about the earlier feeling of wrongness.

"You got a glitch or something, kid?" The mech asked, spark flaring slightly in irritation.

Primus laughed and stared up at the child towering over him. "What an interesting question! I have no error that I know of, though to be honest it wouldn't surprise me if your diagnosis was correct. A part of me wonders if my very existence was a glitch. There's very little evidence to suggest otherwise, you see."

The mech frowned, evidently confused. Primus didn't mind. He was a very confusing being, these things happened. Waving goodbye to the nice mech, he moved on, deciding to visit The Senate and see how many guards he could sneak past without having to cheat. That was always fun, even if he ended up getting thrown out again.

Ironhide watched the strange little mech trot off, his small silver frame inlaid with blue light practically humming with good cheer. He wondered if he should call the Enforcers and tell them some patient had escaped their handler.

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><p><strong>Did you like? :) Do let me know.<strong>

**Next up - Jazz never did get to thank that funny little mech...**


	2. Megatron

**So…this **_**did **_**at one point have a plan. Now it doesn't and I'm not even sure it makes sense. Also it's not as light-hearted as it was supposed to be. And the ending is crap.**

**Bugger.**

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><p><strong>Not All Who Wander Are Lost<strong>

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><p><strong>2. Megatron<strong>

"You could have been so wonderful, you know that?"

The air in the room was still and undisturbed by the being who lingered in the soft glow of the monitors, watching the spark-beat of the patient on the berth gently rise and fall on the screens as though considering a vaguely interesting artwork. The dust, trodden in from the harsh battlegrounds lying outside the falsely peaceful walls, was still scattered across the ground in the aftermath of the panic that gripped the occupants.

The being who even now still lingered in the room, long after even the most loyal had vanished to follow their new leader, pushed off from the wall and walked over to the prone silver form upon the berth. The dust did not move beneath his pedes.

"You could have been so much more than this."

Primus spoke softly, as though speaking to a peacefully slumbering child. His voice was a mere whisper of an existence, racked with pain and a deep, impenetrable sadness.

"You had so many paths." He said, sitting upon the berth and gently stroking the patient's cheek-plating. "The threads of your life were so complex and tightly woven into each other that I often had trouble picking them apart. Prima thought that was funny about you. He would spend forever watching the threads growing and joining. It was…soothing."

Primus' gaze fell to the heavy damage littering the large silver frame. His entire form seemed to sag under an impossible weight.

"You blamed me sometimes. I heard you." He said, "When they took out their frustrations on you, you would blame me for it. You would scream at me in your head, and oh how I listened. If only you knew we were there, every single time. We watched every punch, every kick, and we cried. We cried so hard The AllSpark joined in our mourning. Oh, forgive me my lonely little spark, forgive us for our inaction, and forgive me for the crimes I allowed you to suffer."

There was a small pause, in which Primus resumed stroking the dented cheek plating.

"It's funny. Here I am asking for your forgiveness, when I already know I am undeserving of it. Your suffering was all my doing; though please know it was not intentional. People think we so-called deities are completely untouchable. We are not. We are powerful, yes…but there is always something more powerful out there. I crossed them, and they made sure I would never cross them again."

Primus smiled sadly, optics dimming in pain.

"They made you my torture."

A shadow passed over his entire form.

"For what better way is there to break a Creator than to break their Creations, right in front of their eyes?" Primus asked, the terrible darkness deepening.

The tension snapped as something large exploded far in the distance, a muffled sound that shot through the quiet bliss of the room like a bullet. Primus winced, steadying himself upon the berth with one hand before sitting back up and staring down at the form beneath him.

"It really hurts when that happens. I hope you know that." The words held no accusation, offered no bite. "I know it's not your fault, please do not think I'm blaming you. You could not have known the way your life would lead, or the destruction this particular path would cause."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway beyond the room. They walked by the door, pausing only for a few moments, before carrying on. Primus sighed, a sound that was far too tired.

"It seems strange to say, but if anything…this path was the one I expected you to take. You were always destined for this madness. No matter your upbringing, I think everything would have been the same. If you had been raised under the banner of a titled family, or in the small, cosy household of an archivist…you would still have gone down this path. You are like that. Different, that is, different and clever. You're a lot like your brother, Megatron."

Silence fell in the room, and Primus hung his head. He was exhausted, the agony of the war ripped through his very being with every micro-second that crawled by. There was little time left now. Soon it would be time to sleep, and he was glad of it. He raised his head, and found himself faced with red optics.

"I…I forgive you."

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><p><strong>Bleh. Me no likely, but sadly I can't think of a better thing. So here is this thing. Enjoy the thing. I love you. <strong>

**Peace out.**


End file.
